
The hot pink stone that had gradually swollen with life was a stark slash of blinding color in this otherwise forbidding tunnel. The shadows that gathered here were nothing compared to those in the voidlight a hundred yards off, past the Door, and the corundum was more like an open wound (or a boil) than anything dark or sinister.
She didn't know that, of course. She knew she'd been content in sleeping, or... probably so. She was waking, now, but it was warm, comfortable, and she couldn't remember not having been content, at least. It was a little tight, though, and now and then she stretched or flexed in a half-conscious manner, pressing against the thinned shell around her.
She flexed and turned, and yawned in the dark, lungs still filled with fluid. But it was all still tight around her. She needed more room. When flexing and pushing didn't do it, she sought another power. It came, though she had no idea what it was: a spark from the chunk of stone that had broken free from her shell, but was still firmly bound to her spine. It flared outward, curling into the foliage around the stone. Vines slithered over the chrysalis, squeezing, and a branch of some nearby tree prodded and scraped at the surface. After a few moments one or the other broke through, the released plants sliding back to where they belonged as the gemstone cracked away.
The child tumbled out: a large butterball of a beast, spiky and slicked dark with wet as she coughed and shivered. She hadn't known it was going to be cold! And what was this, anyway? Four eyes opened, squinting a rosy glow as she peered around her.
Nope. This wasn't the inside of a rock anymore.